


Isn't This Just A Site For Hookups?

by spanglecap



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, F/M, Feelings, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, Porn, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, tinder au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-03-29 06:18:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13921164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spanglecap/pseuds/spanglecap
Summary: When Bucky signs him up for Tinder, Steve doesn't really think the whole internet-app-dating -thing is for him. But then he stumbles upon the profile of a woman named Natasha and thinks maybe it's worth a shot





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive!!!?!!? Who knew?!?! Also haven't written in ages so probably a bit rusty, forgive me!!

"Hey, Cap.”

Steve looked around at the voice, dragging a towel through his damp hair just in time to hear Bucky, his housemate, press the ‘capture’ button on his phone – wait – on Steve’s phone.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked suspiciously, tossing the towel into the open washing machine and crossing the room. Bucky lounged back on the couch, engrossed in the small screen.

“I’m not doing anything,” he replied innocently. Steve rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Steve, why do you always think I’m up to something?”

"Because you are always up to something,” Steve said dryly.

Not that Steve was complaining, not really. When they’d got back from serving across seas with the army four years ago, Bucky had been a completely different person. Gone was the boy Steve had grown up with, and in his place was an empty, broken shell of a man. It had taken a lot of work, but these days he had good moods more often than bad moods, thank God. And it was good to have someone close by who understood what some things they’d been through that no one else ever could. The States had felt almost like an alien world when they’d returned and adjusting had been tough on both of them. Their lives had become gunfire and slaughter and bloodshed and pain, but back here it seemed like the biggest worry people had was having the latest phone or being on the latest diet. No one else could ever really understand.

Bucky grinned at him. 

"True,” he admitted with a smirk. “You should really put a passcode on this by the way, anyone could use it.” He went back to prodding the screen. A pause. “Hey, how would you describe yourself two hundred words or less?”

“Why would I need to do that?” Now Steve was even more confused than before. Snatching the phone from Bucky’s hands before he could stop him, Steve frowned as he read the screen.

“Tinder?” he asked incredulously. “Isn’t this just a site for hookups?” One-night-stands had never been something that held much appeal to Steve. He scrolled through the profile Bucky was halfway through creating - " _Personal trainer, enjoys art and photography_ ” - the photo he’d just taken of Steve in his greyish blue tee at the top of it, along with one he had no idea Bucky had taken of him at the gym, and another of Steve with Bucky and his sister that time he’d worn a Christmas sweater in July without realising.

“Well, I guess it has a bit of a reputation,” Bucky admits. “But some people even get married to people they’ve met through it.” Steve shook his head, still frowning.

“I don’t really think it’s my kind of thing,” he said dismissively, pocketing the phone. The whole tech-dating scene was kind of scary, to be honest. Faceless and detached. Not that he was any good at the traditional kind of dating either.

“It’s supposed to be fun,” Bucky tried to argue. “You can chat, go out and meet people, have dates, whatever you’re comfortable with.” Steve set about picking up his things for work, stuffing some gym clothes into a bag. “

I’m fine the way I am, thanks,” he said. What? It wasn’t a complete lie.

“Steve, you’re twenty-nine, you ain’t been on a date in two years, god only knows the last time you got laid,” Bucky retorted. Okay, it did sound bad when he put it like that. “All you do is mope about the house lately when you’re not working.”

“I don’t know,” he said doubtfully. “I don’t think I’m ready for all that yet, Buck.” Bucky let out an exasperated sigh.

“Is this about Peg?” he asked. “Jeez, Steve, I thought you were moving past all that?”

“I thought I was too,” Steve said.

His heart still twisted at the thought of her.

Margaret Carter, the love of his life.

He’d have given up everything for her. He had loved her so fiercely sometimes the thought of her was the only thing keeping him going while he was missing. The thought of being with her again, the thought of sharing his life with her. But then by the time Steve had got back , he’d been declared M.I.A., presumed dead for years already. And the love of his life was engaged to someone else.

Steve had never blamed her, no. As much as it hurt, she had moved on because she thought he was dead, not for lack of loyalty. He couldn’t say he wouldn’t have done the same in her position. Instead, he’d just tried to live with it, grieve for the life they could have had and move on like she had. Trouble was, that was much easier said than done.

“She called me, the other day,” Steve said, trying to sound impassive. Almost immediately he could feel the air change, hanging heavy with tension. He and Peggy were still friends and did still speak, but it wasn’t often and it seemed Bucky could sense the call had affected him.

“And?” Bucky asked tentatively when Steve didn’t elaborate. It took a few more moments for Steve to find the words.

“She’s pregnant,” he said shortly, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder. “Three months.” Bucky let out a long breath.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

The news had hit him harder than he thought it would. Peggy had been married to Gabe for three years now, and starting a family was the next logical step from there. But when she’d told him it had still made his insides churn, his initial reaction that of “it should have been me”, something which he hated himself immediately for. Peggy’s life was her own, and he just didn’t have a part in it anymore. Or at least, not the part he had wanted. It was stupid, feeling this way, because he’d accepted that a long time ago. But it still stung like a son of a bitch.

“I’m late for work,” he said, the door slamming behind him.

* * *

 

Steve’s day was packed out with clients, which, thankfully, managed to keep his mind occupied most of the time. But there still seemed to be a metaphorical dark cloud dampening his mood. Even Thor noticed, his colleague. Thor was a Scandinavian man even bigger than Steve, but for all his strength and brawn he possessed a heart that was even bigger.

“Captain!” Thor’s booming voice called as Steve made his way to the staff room.

“Hey, Thor,” he said absentmindedly, turning to see the other man following him.

“Anyone would have thought you were on another planet, the look on your face” Thor said. Steve vaguely recalled being surprised by how astute Thor was when they had first met. 

“Don’t worry about it, it’s nothin’,” Steve replied, forcing a smile. “Nothing getting beaten up in Sif’s class won’t take my mind off anyway,” he joked.

Sif was another colleague of his, who had joined at the same time as Thor. Tuesday was when she taught her Women’s Self Defence class. He and Thor, on a weekly basis, were dragged into playing the role of Double A - or ‘Asshole Assailant’ to the newcomers - for demonstration purposes and come out the other side with bruises to match. Thor would even come in especially for the class, even though Tuesday was one of his days off, and Sif was adamant that having them ‘stand in the class looking 'unthreatening and available’ actually raised attendance.

“I always knew you got a kick out of all those women throwing us to the ground,” Thor jibed. Steve snorted, feeling himself relax a little for the first time all day. He had always liked that Thor never pressed him for details.

“We’re helping Sif teach more effectively,” Steve argued. Which wasn’t a lie, really.

“Clearly you have much more noble reasons for coming back every week than I, my friend,” Thor said with a grin.

“You’re terrible.”

"Only in the best way," Thor grinned.

* * *

 

The sun had long since set when Steve finally flumped onto his mattress that evening.

The apartment was quiet and dark when he got back, so he assumed Bucky had either already gone to sleep or was out somewhere.

Sometimes Steve hated the four walls of his bedroom. He hated them when he couldn’t sleep, plagued by nightmares more memory than unconscious invention. He hated them when it felt like he was suffocating in a cell and he had to get outside. He hated them when it felt like the rest of the world was too much to face, and couldn’t bring himself to open the door.

But sometimes, after a long day, the hazy glow from the streetlights behind the blinds was soothing. The sounds of the city outside - the passers by, the cars, occasional sirens and metallic clangs - weren’t always crystal clear, but close enough that he felt like he wasn’t alone. He let out a long breath, focusing on the sounds, on the feel of the cotton sheets under his hands. Grounding himself. Sometimes, he needed to know he controlled the space he was in, and no one else.

A soft ‘ping’ came from his phone, bringing Steve out of his light daze. He sat up. Probably an email. Pulling the phone from his pocket, he unlocked the screen to see his half-finished Tinder profile still left from this morning. He looked at it. Maybe Bucky was right. He needed to move on, stop grieving over the past. Peggy was happy with her life now. Surely he deserved the same? It reminded him of something she’d said to him, a few weeks before marrying Gabe.

 _Sometimes the best that we can do is to start over_.

Jaw set and feeling resolute, at least for the moment, Steve pushed the ‘Done’ button at the bottom of the page. Immediately he was offered the option to browse through potential matches based off who was in his area.

The idea was to swipe right or left depending on if he liked the look of the profiles it showed him or not. The whole thing seemed kind of shallow, but Steve thought he might as well scroll through a few options. The first profile was of a girl whose filled-in eyebrows were so severe and angular she looked like a half finished Picasso painting. Nope. The second girl looked nice enough, until Steve noticed her bio stated that she was ‘Pro-Life, Pro-Guns and Pro-America’. Nope. The third was a man, but the only picture was an uncomfortably close-crop of his abs and the bio was empty. Another Nope.

Steve swiped through three more profiles before he started to feel terrible about judging people so quickly. Was this really how people dated these days? Did people not even have enough time to give people more than a glance before deciding if they were worthy of attention?

Then something did catch his attention. And held it.

A woman, beautiful with vibrant red hair and an intensity to her gaze that made his mouth dry. Her plump lips formed a small smirk, promising all kinds of mischief.

It said her name was Natasha.

Natasha looked like the kind of woman who would eat him alive, and he’d probably thank her for it afterward. Something he didn’t think he’d be opposed to, if he was totally honest.

Her profile didn’t really say much, other than that she was in New York only for a short time, but a bit of mystery had never bothered Steve. Hesitantly, he swiped to the right, wondering if she would do the same.

The next profile popped onto the screen but he didn’t really look at it, Natasha’s face still burned into his mind . He closed the app, tossing the phone across the bed. Who was he kidding, anyway? Someone like that would never be interested in someone like him. And even if she was, what would it lead to? Some random hookup? No thanks.

Steve wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he knew he wanted more than meaningless sex with strangers. He wanted...something else. Something more. He _wanted_. Something he probably wouldn’t get from a hook-up app.

Besides, a woman like Natasha probably had guys lining up to date her.

Wearily, Steve lay back down, closing his eyes.

Maybe he will have forgotten about her by morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smutty tinder au one shot turned into a multichap, no surprise there! I'm thinking 3 chapters maybe
> 
> Also I promise I haven't forgotten about that Gladiator AU! If anyone remembers it xD
> 
> Much love to you sweet reader, any feedback appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd, sorry!  
> Thanks for the lovely feedback on the first chapter, hope you enjoy this one!

Steve hadn’t forgotten about her by morning.

For once, he wasn’t awake to hear his alarm go off, but he didn’t feel particularly rested, head groggy as he rubbed at his eyes.

And he still had the image of Natasha’s face hanging at the front of his mind.

He’d always had a good memory, which sometimes he was grateful for, and sometimes not. Right now, he wasn’t grateful. He shouldn’t still be thinking about her, about what her laugh might sound like or about what she might feel like in his arms.

Nope. Stupid. Move on.

She’d never be interested in him.

So he got up, deciding that a shower was in order. He had a full day ahead of him at work and this evening he’d probably try and drag Bucky to Sam’s weekly help group. Steve thought he could hear Bucky shuffling around when he got out of the shower a few minutes later. He packed a quick bag for the day, running through his schedule in his head and hoping he could squeeze in a workout session for himself somewhere. Pulling some boxers on, he rummaged in a drawer for some deodorant. Jeans next, then he pulled a t shirt out. Deep red, almost the same shade as Natasha’s hair, but hers looked like it would be more vibrant...and there he was, thinking about her again. Huffing, he swiped up a different shirt, dark blue this time and went out to the kitchen.

“I need professional help,” Steve announced with a sigh as he entered the room. Bucky turned his head to look at him from the stove, bacon and eggs sizzling in a pan.

“You only just figuring this out now? Join the party, pal,” Bucky replied sarcastically. He paused. “But why specifically today?”

“You know that Tinder profile you made me?” Steve asked, inwardly cringing.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, dragging the word out with a grin spreading across his face.

“I might have...used it,” Steve admitted. He groaned. Why did he have to go and use it? “And found a girl who’s way out of my league and now I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Nothin’ wrong with thinking about a girl, Steve,” Bucky told him, winking

“There is when you know it’ll never happen,” he corrected.

“Well, I can think of a lot more things we need professional help for a lot more than that.”

“True,” Steve shrugged. They probably had enough trauma between them to keep any good psychiatrist going for decades.

“You never know, why don’t you give it a shot?”

“I might if you come to the meeting tonight,” Steve said, changing the subject. Bucky groaned.

“How many times, Steve?” he asked, voice tinged with annoyance. “I’m not going, it’s not going to help.”

“How do you know if you’ve never been?” Steve retorted.

“Right, because sitting around in a circle comparing sob stories is really going to make me feel better,” he said moodily.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want. Sometimes it’s just good to know you’re not the only one who got screwed by the system.”

To know that they weren’t the only ones who weren’t ok.

Bucky rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the breakfast he was making. Steve huffed out a breath, knowing the conversation was over. Two slices of toast popped up from the toaster, and Steve swiped one - against Bucky’s protests - before heading out for work.

 

* * *

 

Steve got through the morning relatively easily. Once he was with clients, it was easier to focus on them instead of thinking about Natasha and before he knew it it was lunchtime.

Deciding he had time to run around to the deli he liked round the corner to grab a sandwich, Steve stuffed his wallet and phone in his pocket and left.

He was scrolling through his phone, waiting for his order when it happened.

A notification from Tinder.

Specifically, a message. But you could only receive messages from people you had matched with. And he only remembered swiping right on one person.

Natasha.

_Hello, Steve Rogers. Nice Christmas sweater._

He was slightly confused for a second, before remembering one of the photos Bucky had used featured a particularly festive article of clothing. Before he could reply, another message pinged through.

_Am I right in thinking that the calendar on the wall says July though?_

He knew he should send something snappy back, but he couldn’t seem to think of anything. It _had_ been July, and Bucky and Rebecca hadn’t let him forget it for weeks. And he was still kind of getting his head round the idea that she’d actually messaged him.

 _What can I say, it was a cold day,_ he typed instead, hitting the Send button. Steve was surprised when a reply came just a few moments later.

_Guessing there was no mistletoe around then either. Shame._

A small smile tugged at his lips. She was quick and witty, and something told him he might even struggle to keep up - and was she flirting with him? He typed another message.

_No, but there wasn’t anyone to kiss even if there had been._

Again, the reply came almost instantly.

_When you wear Christmas sweaters in July, there might be a reason for that. People might think you’re mad._

Steve snorted out a laugh.

_Ah, so that’s where I’ve been going wrong all these years._

_Oh, I’m sure you have some other things going for you._

Part of Steve immediately wanted to know what she thought these ‘other things’ could be, but before he could think of a way to ask without sounding like an asshole or a twelve year old trying to flirt Natasha sent another message.

_First time in the world of internet dating?_

_What gave me away?_ Steve typed, inwardly groaning. Was he that obvious?

_Just a feeling._

He waited a moment, just to see if she would say anything else, but no other messages came. Almost like she was waiting for him to say something first. Deciding he had nothing to lose by being bold, he tapped out a message and hit “Send” before his brain could catch up and convince him not to.

_Any chance you’d let me take you out for a drink sometime?_

He read it back in his head, hoping he’d come across as casual, like he was used to asking people out. She’d probably say no anyway, who was he kidding? Another reply.

_More than a chance._

His heart skipped a couple of beats. She was actually saying yes?

_Was wondering how long it would take you to ask._

Steve laughed, feeling like he had been right when he’d thought he might struggle to keep up.

_There’s a bar I like on the corner of 3rd Ave & 35th St. Ted’s Corner Tavern. Friday? 8pm. _

_Sounds great. Guessing I should leave the Christmas sweater at home?_

_Yes, unless Friday is actually December 25th and I don’t know about it?_

“Steve?”

He looked up sharply to see the girl behind the counter holding up a paper bag with his name on it. Thanking her, he took the bag and left the deli, still not quite believing it. He tapped out one more message.

_Got it, no festive attire._

Again, the reply popped up within a few seconds.

_See you Friday._

Steve exhaled a long breath. He’d got himself a date with one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. And a date through Tinder at that. He sighed again.

Bucky was never going to let him live this down.

 

* * *

 

Friday seemed like it took forever to arrive.

Not since his time being held as a prisoner of war in a dank, dark cell did the days feel so long. He got home late, and didn’t manage to drag Bucky to Sam’s group, so they spent the rest of the evening watching television. Thursday seemed to drag on for even longer, and Steve’s stomach started tying itself in knots at approximately three pm. Bucky didn’t seem to want to come out of his room that evening so Steve took himself out for a run, something he usually found passed the time quite well. But the further he ran, the more often he found himself glancing at his watch.To make things worse, he barely slept two hours in the night thanks to some old memories resurfacing in his dreams. Friday was much the same, sessions at work that seemed to last twice as long as usual, but finally, 8pm at Todd’s was only a few hours away.

Funny how now that it was here, Steve felt like it had come around pretty quickly.

He looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His hair was a little longer than he’d like, but probably had time to shave the two weeks of heavy stubble that had built up on his jaw. Reaching for the straight razor and cream he kept in the cabinet, he found himself wondering if Natasha would have a preference. Not that it should matter, really.

Twenty minutes later he was patting his face dry with a towel, staring at his wardrobe. What did people even wear on dates these days anyway? Not that there was much choice in the first place. Steve had always had a very utilitarian approach to fashion - not like his friend Tony who owned more tailored suits and fancy cufflinks than Steve thought possible - and suddenly he felt his wardrobe was severely lacking in the ‘formal’ depeartment. Aside from his work clothes, which was all workout gear anyway, there was a couple of pairs of jeans, some slightly more expensive t shirts, three button downs - two plain and one checked flannel - one pair of slacks, one leather jacket and a lighter blue canvas jacket for the summer. None of which had been bought in the last couple of years at least. He didn’t really count his military uniform or the single black suit which he only ever seemed to wear for funerals. And a Christmas sweater.

Maybe if he survived this date he’d ask Pepper to take him shopping sometime.

Grumbling under his breath, he reached for a dark grey t shirt, jeans, brown boots and leather jacket. Fuck it, he decided. As long as it didn’t have Rudolph on the front, it would do.

“Going somewhere?” Bucky asked suspiciously, eyeing Steve’s freshly shaven face as he entered the room.

“I’ve uh...got on a date,” Steve admitted, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. A slow grin spread across Bucky’s face.

“That girl on Tinder?” he asked slyly. Steve nodded. “See? Told you to give it a try, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you were right, blah blah,” Steve replied, rolling his eyes. “She might not even show up.”

“Whatever,” said Bucky. “Try not to have too much fun,” he added sarcastically.

 

* * *

 

Steve found the bar easily enough, and it seemed to have a pretty good atmosphere when he walked in. It was busy, people sat and stood in groups chatting away but not full to bursting which Steve appreciated. Crowded places set him on edge, and at least he’d be able to hear what she was saying over the music.

He grabbed a bar stool and ordered a drink, feeling more than a bit nervous now he was here. He downed the glass, hoping a little liquid courage might help him out and ordered another while he waited for her.

And waited.

And waited.

Almost forty five minutes had passed and he’d just about decided that he was being stood up when she walked in.

The way she looked made his stomach tie itself in knots all over again. How could she have possibly agreed to go on a date with him?

No. He could do this. This was ridiculous. All he had to do was talk to her. Talking. Nothing else. Just talking.

He stood from the stool, clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair. Her eyes settled on him and he could see the click of recognition. She smiled when she saw him, one corner of plump lips he was already longing to taste quirking up. She shrugged her jacket off as she walked over, and as she drew closer he could see her eyes were an amberish-green, something that hadn’t come through on her photos. Her loose fitting top looked like rich velvet and he fought the urge to reach out and touch, because he knew it would feel sublime under his hands. The thin straps sat on a delicate collarbone, and tight jeans showed the curve of her thighs when she perched on the bar stool next to him, crossing one leg over the other. His mouth felt dry.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, and her voice held a richness that made a shiver run down his spine. He sat back down. “Phone battery died, or else I would have let you know.”

“I um...you look…I mean...” He struggled to think of an adequate word. There wasn’t one. He cleared his throat. “Beautiful,” he managed to say, and she smiled slightly in response.

“Thank you,” she said, looking him over. “Nice to know you actually look like your picture.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he replied, throat still dry. A few seconds passed in silence, where suddenly Steve was wondering if this had been a good idea or not. “So this is the part of the date where I don’t know what to say and it gets awkward, huh? Much sooner than I thought it would be.”

“You could buy me a drink,” she suggested, looking amused.

“Right,” Steve agreed, feeling out of his depth. “Yeah, what do you want?”

“A martini?”

Steve nodded, trying to smile but feeling a little flustered. God, maybe dating _was_ too much. He motioned for the bartender and ordered the martini and tried not to think about how bad his social skills seemed to have gotten. _Jeez, Steve, get a grip,_ he told himself firmly. He could do this. All he had to do was talk to her. Talking. Nothing else. Just talking.

“So uh...what do you do?” he asked, just as the bartender slid Natasha’s drink over to her. “For a living I mean.”

“You know, this and that,” she replied vaguely. “Boring stuff really.”

“I don’t think you could be boring if you tried,” Steve blurted. She’d hardly said two sentences to him yet but already he could see a fire burning behind her eyes that enthralled him. Natasha laughed.

“That’s a matter of opinion,” she said. “And you? Your profile said you were a personal trainer?”

“For the last couple of years, yeah,” Steve nodded.

“And before?”she inquired.

“I was...in the army,” Steve said, keeping it vague. Probably best not to unload all the years worth of emotional baggage on the first date.

“Ah, a military man,” Natasha mused. “What section?”

“Special Ops,” he said, feeling his heart rate quicken and and his muscles tense. Natasha seemed to pick up on his discomfort.

“I get it,” she said. “Let’s talk about something else.”

So they did. Steve relaxed a little. Somehow, they’d gone through two more drinks each just talking. She was witty, with a dry sense of humour but Steve had always liked that in people. She didn’t really reveal anything too personal - made jokes or innuendos more than anything - but he thought she could probably be deadly serious at times and she didn't seem like the kind of person who would open up to someone she'd only just met. The longer he was with her, the more he felt like his senses were in overdrive - she was so vibrant - the line of her collarbone and cherry lips as she sipped her drink and the way he got a wave of her perfume as she brushed her hair back off her shoulders. The curve of her neck, and soft rosy colour on her cheeks. Her laugh made his chest swell.

“What made you say yes?” he asked suddenly. She cocked a brow at him, waiting for him to elaborate. “When I asked you out for a drink?” he clarified.

“You seemed honest,” she said simply.

“Honest?”

Natasha shrugged, finishing her drink.

“Based on my previous track record, honest is a good start,” she said.

“At least you _have_ a track record,” Steve said wistfully, before realising he’d spoken aloud. He cringed.

“Been that long, huh?” Natasha laughed.

“Longer than I’d care to admit,” he replied.

“Well now I _have_ to know.”

“You really don’t.”

“I feel like if you don’t answer it though, you’re kind of answering..”

Steve tried to think back to the last time he’d dated, feeling like it may as well have been ninety years ago. Did he and Peggy ever really date? Not in the traditional sense. Hard to go out on a date when you lived in a war zone. There was that single, one-night-long and incredibly unsatisfying relationship with an ex- colleague that he’d regretted ever since, but even that must have been two years ago by now.

“Couple of years maybe?” he said quickly. She let out a low whistle. “That bad, huh?”

“No, it - I just wondered how much...practice you’ve had.” Steve huffed out a laugh.

“You don’t need practice,” he told her.

“Everybody needs practice,” she argued back.

Yep. He'd been right. She was going to eat him alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to cut it there in the middle of the date but the chapter was turning out super long and I just wanted to publish something. Thought it was a nice bit to pause at and it'll add another chapter to the story ;)  
> Feedback appreciated!! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves, porn is coming

“I actually had fun tonight.” 

Natasha looked up at Steve, who rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. It was kind of adorable. They stood outside Natasha’s apartment, after Steve had insisted on walking her home. Natasha would be lying if she said she wasn’t hoping he’d come inside.

“You sound surprised,” she commented. A flash of a smile, and not for the first time Natasha found herself wondering how someone got to be so attractive and so completely oblivious to it.

“Just wasn’t really expecting...you,” he replied, meeting her gaze. There it was again, that earnestness of his. Natasha stomach lurched, like it had a couple of times already that evening. She glanced away. He never seemed to react the way she thought he would, like most men would in his place. She was used to flirting using innuendos and ambiguity, keeping her feelings detached. It was easier that way, and usually the men she ‘dated’ responded in the same kind of way, knowing she never promised any kind of future with them beyond a few evenings. Whereas Steve just...said what he was thinking. It was blunt. Refreshing, even. And maybe a little bit worrying that she found herself liking it. “I’d like to see you again, I mean, if you want to.”

“How about in the morning?” she asked in her best sultry voice, changing the mood back to one she was familiar with. He’d respond to this like other guys, right? She stepped closer to him, letting her gaze linger on his lips. But he didn’t pick up on her tone right away. 

“For breakfast? I know this great place on...oh.” He seemed to catch on. “You don’t mean for breakfast do you?”

“Are you going to kiss me or not, Steve?” she asked him impatiently. If she could have, she’d have stood up on her tiptoes even more than she already was in these heels, and kissed him by now. She’d wanted to all evening. But even with her neck craned back, his lips stayed annoyingly just out of reach.

For a second Steve thought he must have misheard, and he wondered if he even remembered how to kiss someone. Maybe he did need practice.

“I…” He didn’t really know what he was going to say, but it didn’t seem to matter. She grasped at his jacket, giving a small tug and he dipped his head down obediently. He couldn’t deny the first thing he’d thought when she walked into the bar was how much he wanted to taste those plump, rosy lips.

The lingering scent of her drink on her breath and the perfume on her skin made him dizzy with want, a heady, intoxicating mix. He gripped the edge of the door beside him, needing to ground himself. She pressed her body against his and he found himself counting to ten in his head to distract himself. What if he wasn’t ready for this? What if it was too much too soon? What if she kissed him and decided she’d rather find someone else, someone who knew what they were doing because right now he felt like none of the muscles in his body were working and-

“-Relax,” she murmured, and then he felt it, the soft press of plush lips against his. His head spun, heartbeat thudding in his ears, brain stuttering. 

Then nothing else mattered.

She was kissing him and he was kissing her back. He moaned into her mouth, suddenly remembering what it felt like to be close to someone, to be...intimate and wanting more. 

He brought one hand up to her neck, fingers tangling in her hair and the other hand slipped under her jacket and clutched at her waist. Finally he was touching her and the velvet of her top felt sinful against the curves of her body as he gathered her closer, wanting to feel as much of her as he could. 

Natasha yelped in surprise as his bulk surrounded her, enveloping and lifting her up so her toes were barely brushing the ground. He felt huge suddenly with his strong arms wrapped around her, solid weight pressing her up against the door as she clung to broad shoulders. For the first few seconds it had felt a little clumsy, but now his kiss grew more confident, urgent even, and her own lips parted in a small sigh of pleasure. The taste of him was exquisite, dizzying, the way a new partner always was. Heat seemed to roll off him in waves, and she gasped into his mouth again as he shifted and she felt his arousal already hard against her stomach. A fresh throb of desire went through her at the thought of how it might feel as he breached her.

“Want to come in?” she asked breathlessly.

Steve nodded, maybe a little too quickly. He leant back in, not ready to stop kissing her. She laughed, fumbling with the lock behind her but eventually managing to open it. They stumbled through, and Steve somehow remembered to kick the door shut behind him. She reached out for the lightswitch before pushing at his jacket, sliding it down his arms and to the floor.

Natasha shrugged her own jacket off, shivering at the feel of his hands on her bare skin when he slipped them underneath her top, touch light at first but soon firmly grasping at her flesh. She led him backwards, him eagerly following her lips, until she was able to push him down onto the couch and climb onto his lap. She trailed her lips along his jaw, and as she did so she spotted a long scar running down his neck, which, in the dim light of the bar and with his jacket collar in the way, she’d failed to notice. It ran from the corner of his jaw downwards, disappearing under the collar of his t shirt, and she felt him stiffen when she trailed her lips along it. Quickly, she lathed her tongue across his skin, suckling gently and he melted back with a moan.

Steve couldn’t think, could barely breathe. He could only respond, his body and his urges taking over from his brain. He had thought he’d wanted to take things slower, maybe take her out a couple more times before they had sex or at the very least, take the time to learn all her weak spots and appreciate her properly when they did. But right now, when she was sucking possessive, pink marks on his neck and slowly rolling her core against his, any and all willpower to he had to stop was very quickly leaving him. He was too far gone to care. She moaned when he ground back up against her, and his last resolve seemed to snap at the thought of burying himself deep inside her. As soon as possible.

Steve lifted Natasha’s top up, needing to see more of her and she broke away long enough to let him take it up over her head and throw it to one side before leaning back in to kiss him again. He bit at the plump curve of her bottom lip, sensation overriding any reason he had left. He skimmed his hands over her body, over her back and shoulders and the swell of her breasts still hidden from him in a strapless black bra.

Natasha reached down to unfasten his jeans, relishing the broken moan that escaped him as she palmed him through his boxers. His head fell back against the couch, pleasure wrought across his features as she worked her way inside them, wrapping her hand around the velvety shaft and giving a small tug. She bit her lip, that throb of desire from earlier spreading like fire through her again. He was hard, easily eight or nine inches, and thick with it too. He moaned again when she slicked her hand with the precum leaking from his tip and gave another few strokes. He growled low in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut and gripping her thighs. She knew she should wait, should work herself up to taking him, being the size that he was. Get them to her bed at least. But she couldn’t, not when he looked this tempting and she could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Not when he’d kept her waiting all evening already. 

“Please tell me you brought some condoms,” she breathed. She’d dropped her purse at the doorway and really didn’t feel like going to get it, because that would mean she’d have to lose the feeling of his hands on her.

Steve huffed out a laugh, nodding. He remembered feeling stupid when he’d bought a pack that afternoon, not wanting to presume he would need them but not wanting to be unprepared. Right now, he was glad he had. He lifted his hips slightly and reached behind to his back pocket, drawing out his wallet and opening it. Natasha slipped off his lap, kicking her pumps off and peeling her jeans down shapely legs.

Steve rolled the condom down, thankful he still seemed to remember how. He gripped himself, giving a couple of strokes, still not quite believing this was actually happening. He looked back up at Natasha, who was already settling herself back into his lap, bare from the waist down. His gaze was drawn to a knot of scarred flesh low on her hip that looked remarkably like a healed gunshot wound - he should know after all - and suddenly he had a whole new set of questions in his head.

“Is that-”

“-Not now, Steve,” Natasha interrupted, mind too hazy with lust. She was slick enough already - she’d wanted him since the moment she laid eyes on him - and her body throbbed as the blunt head of his cock pressed against her.

Steve groaned, clenching his jaw as she sank down on him. He couldn’t feel anything else but her and it was overwhelming, indescribable. He pulled her lips down to his, needing to taste her again. Under his hands, the muscles in her thighs relaxed as she seated herself fully on him, letting out the breath she was holding and taking a moment to adjust. He wasn’t prepared when she gave a gentle roll of her hips, testing the waters.

Natasha bit her lip. She felt so full and he was so solid not just inside her, but surrounding her, thick arms wrapping around her torso and pulling her closer until her breasts pushed against his chest. He thrust up into her unexpectedly, just once,but she gasped at the spike of pleasure it caused, a small grin forming on his face at the sound.

It felt different from before, now that he filled her. The initial haste had faded and had been replaced with something more like...longing. Longing for this feeling to last, to have him stretch her out all night. With only slight clumsiness, he unhooked her bra and threw it to the side, her nipples brushing the soft fabric of his tshirt as they kissed languidly. She longed to feel his skin against hers - he was still fully clothed - but there would be time for that later. The sense of urgency was creeping back, the need for more. 

Steve swore under his breath as she lifted her hips again, happy to let her set the pace. It felt like she grew slicker with every movement, what was a tight fit at first now felt perfect as she slid up and down his length. The sheen of sweat on her skin felt exquisite as he grasped at her flesh, never getting enough. She trembled atop him when his teeth lightly scraped at one of her pink nipples, before his tongue swirled over in its place.The kind of pleasure he’d not felt in years tugged at the pit of his stomach and throbbed in his chest, the pleasure of another sharing themselves with him, taking everything he had and giving everything back. 

Natasha moaned, shifting her position slightly to grind her hips down on him. Every time her clit pressed against him it swelled with pleasure and already it felt like she could crumble to pieces at any second. Call her selfish, but part of why she’d climbed on top of him before they could even get to a bed was because she knew she could always come - and quickest - on top, regardless of who was underneath her. 

Not that Steve seemed to mind her selfishness in the slightest. On the contrary, the way his breath hitched sent a thrill down her spine. He moaned into her skin, blunt fingernails pressing into her. His eyelashes fluttered shut as he rested his head back on the sofa and a flush coloured his cheeks. And the way he bit his bottom lip, full and rosy pink from their kisses was downright sinful. She leant down, wanting to taste him again and he kissed her hungrily, reaching up to tangle fingers in her hair.

Then she was tumbling over the edge, gasping and the world blurring at the edges as she came.  
It felt like an age before Natasha had the energy to move. Did she have to, really? Contentment and warmth spread through her, nerves still tingling, quite happy to stay here on Steve’s lap with him still inside her for a little while longer. She could feel his heart thudding in his chest, matching her own slowly returning to a normal pace. She nestled her head in the crook of his neck. He traced small, soft, skimming patterns over her skin with a light hand, the other resting on her thigh. It felt far more comfortable than it ought to, for a first time with a practical stranger. 

“Was that Russian?” he asked suddenly, voice still a little husky. She raised her head to look at him. “Just now, as you came…”

Natasha shifted slightly, unsure what to tell him. She hadn’t realised she’d said anything, but sometimes she did revert back to her mother tongue without realising. Maybe Steve’s honest nature was rubbing off on her, because before she knew it she was telling him.

“I grew up there,” she replied, surprising herself. Russia wasn’t her home. The place held no sentimental memories for her like a homeland should. Only nightmares, but her mind still seemed to cling to it anyway wherever she went. Lingering on in the the food she liked, the language she thought in, the fears she held. She had never been able to shake it off completely, as much as she'd tried. “It comes out sometimes.”

“Well,” he said, voice dropping an octave as he moved to nuzzle at her ear. “I don’t know what you said but I liked it.” 

Natasha laughed, a shiver going through her with his lips on her neck. 

“Did you come?” she asked, realising she’d been too caught up in her own pleasure to notice and feeling a little sorry for it. Next time she'd make sure she paid close attention.

“How could I not?” Steve responded, remembering the way she’d cried his name and God only knew what else throwing him over the edge. His cock twitched at the thought, still stiff. Clearly, the last couple of years had left him with some catching up to do. To his dismay, Natasha moved to climb off him and stand up.

She stretched, looking quite pleased with herself, and Steve's gaze was drawn again to the scar on her abdomen. However the curiosity it piqued was quickly forgotten again as she turned and gave him a view of her full, round ass he'd had in his hands only a few moments ago. And jeez, did it it look even better than it felt, if that was even possible. She walked away from him and he couldn't do anything more than watch as she disappeared into a room to the left. 

"You staying out there all night?" she called.

Steve stood hastily and tossed the used condom into a trash bin he spotted at the side. Tucking himself back into his jeans, he crossed the room after her. This afternoon, this was the last thing he thought he'd be doing right now. He thought he'd be back at the apartment, telling Bucky how she hadn't even shown up, or how he'd messed it up and she'd left after one drink.

But here he was, wanting more even after what they'd just done. 

Funny how things turn out.

"I sure hope not," he muttered to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter; some feels and more smut probably


End file.
